“She’d only been here a week, but Beth Scoggins described her as aggressive, moving in on Beth’s queen-bee status. Daney needs them to be passive. Maybe she asserted herself too much. Or she thought she wanted his attentions, but when the time came, she resisted.”

“Not playing the game,” he said. “There could be a family out there somewhere, wondering.”

Or even worse, there isn’t.

I said, “When we find him, maybe we can learn where he buried her.”

“Love your optimism.” He placed the foster form on the desk. Stared at it. Returned to the box.

Pharmaceutical bubble pack. Nine bubbles, seven of them empty. Two round, white pills, scored diagonally. Stamped “Hoffman” atop the midline, “1” below it.

The label on the pack said: Rohypnol, 1 mg (flunitrazepam).

“Party pills,” I said.

Milo said, “Next.”

Out came Rand Duchay’s C.Y.A. I.D. tag. The photo showing Rand looking baffled.

Last, at the bottom, a manila envelope not much larger than a playing card, fastened by a string and eyelet. Milo’s gloved hands fumbled with the string. He cursed, finally got the string uncoiled. Brought the envelope close to the desk and shook it out carefully.

Out tumbled a tiny bracelet. Square, white plastic cubes strung on a pink thread.

Seven cubes. A letter on each.

K R I S T A L

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 43

Like the cement cube, the converted garage had a single window. No larger than the cube, but with only two beds, it felt a lot more spacious.

I said, “Valerie, where did Drew keep his money? It’s important.”

She sat on her bed, I was three feet away in a pink plastic chair.

Real bed, not a bunk. Wood-grain headboard embossed with vines and flowers. Matching chest of drawers with the same embellishment. A threadbare gray rug covered most of the cement floor.

Particle board partitions created a corner bathroom, complete with shower, shampoo, hotel soaps, and lotions still sealed.

A host of stuffed animals on Valerie’s bed. Monica’s bed, across the room, had only a single blue teddy bear.

Clear hierarchy. Lodgings for the preferred ward and her next-in-line. What reason had Drew given Cherish? What had she been thinking?

Valerie’s black hair was shiny-wet. She played with a towel that said Sheraton Universal. Her eyes were pond pebbles.

I said, “In a box? Did he keep his money in a gray metal box?”

The pebbles rounded around the edges as she looked away. Constricted pupils. Her hands danced on her knees.

“We found the box, Valerie, but there was no money in it, so I guess Drew made all that up.”

“No! I saw it.”

“You saw the money?”

She avoided my eyes.

I shrugged. “If you say so.”

“It was there.”

“It’s gone, now.”

“Bitch!”

“You think Cherish took it.”

“She stoled it.”

“It wasn’t hers?”

“We got it! At the nonprofits!”